From Mrs. Drinkwater, who’s name somehow highlights both her lack of cooking skills and fondness for stealing India’s liquor, to the stinky Vincent, who’s still not allowed on the cushions due to his eau de filth, India is at her smartest, most sarcastic self. Through twists and turns among the villainous anarchists, India reveals just enough to let us wonder what she’s up to.

The spy stuff is brilliant, but those tantalizing personal pieces of the puzzle—moments with French, the mystery surrounding her mother, and oh, those notes to and from the Marchioness Tullibardine, (which could be a short story itself!)—tie the whole adventure together. We are amused.